


The Smell of Him

by anditwasstinky (thewicked)



Category: Free!
Genre: Free! Kink Meme, M/M, Masturbation, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewicked/pseuds/anditwasstinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruka wears Makoto's shirt home (you know which shirt I'm talking about) and gets distracted from his bath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Smell of Him

**Author's Note:**

> De-anoning from the kink meme. You can find the original thread here: http://iwatobiswimclub.dreamwidth.org/893.html?thread=766589

Even though his uniform has dried since arriving at Makoto’s house, Haru still walks out wearing Makoto’s shirt.

“I’ll wash it and bring it back tomorrow,” he promises, not even looking at Makoto for confirmation.  They both know that this was going to happen as soon as Haru put on the shirt, but neither is going to admit it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Makoto says with a wave of the hand.  “I’ve got plenty where that came from.  Take your time.”

“No.  I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”  Haru gives Makoto a sidelong glance as he steps into the doorway.  “Before school.”

“I… okay.” 

Ran and Ren pile into the doorway in front of Makoto to say goodbye once more, and Haru tosses a wave over his shoulder as he makes his way back to the stairs leading to his house.

He decides to take a bath, and as the tub fills he takes a moment to nuzzle into the collar of Makoto’s shirt.  He inhales, closing his eyes as Makoto’s clean musk fills his nostrils, and when he exhales, a small sigh of satisfaction curls up from the back of his throat. 

His eyes fly open when he realizes what’s just happened, and he lets the shirt fall back down to his shoulders as he stares straight ahead, furrowing his brow.  A contemplative lick of the lips, and then he’s bringing the shirt back up to his nose and giving an experimental sniff: the tang of off-brand detergent, a faint whiff of Makoto’s cedar wardrobe, a hint of chlorine, a smidge of brine from the sea, and something else – a soft smell, a little sweet, unobtrusive among all of the others, but a strong smell, of musk, of sweat, of Makoto.

Haruka gives another pleased sigh, and he finds himself crushing the shirt to his face as he hungrily inhales, trying to figure out what exactly it _is_ about his friend that is making him so weird. 

Before he knows it, he’s shutting off the water and leaving the bathroom for his bedroom, where he falls on top of his bed with Makoto’s shirt balled into his hands.  He buries his face into the soft fabric, greedily taking in the scent and humming in satisfaction as it leaves warmth pooling in his stomach and a smile twitching across his face. 

He stops when his hips give an involuntary roll into the mattress, his hardening cock lighting up with the friction.

Lifting his head up from the shirt, Haruka looks around his room guiltily, as if Makoto’s going to pop out from somewhere shouting “Gotcha!” as if this whole thing had been a test.  But nothing happens, and Haruka’s still kind of hard, and he kind of wants to just envelop himself in Makoto’s shirt.  Slowly, the unreasonable fear that Makoto will somehow _know_ as soon as he gets his shirt back still in the back of his mind, Haruka slides a hand under the waistband of his jammer as he gives the shirt a tentative sniff – the light brush of his fingers combined with Makoto’s scent sends a shiver through his body that makes a puff of air stutter out of his mouth.  He pushes in deeper until he has his whole length pressed against the palm of his hand, biting his lip when he tries to curl his fingers around himself.  The jammer’s too tight, though, compressing everything and leaving very little room for maneuvering.  Without a second thought, he’s stripping down to nothing, lying on his side with Makoto’s shirt wrapped around his head and his hand wrapped around his cock.

He closes his eyes as he begins to stroke, humming into the shirt as Makoto’s face appears behind his closed eyes, kind green eyes shining as he murmurs Haruka’s name.

_Haru…_

He swipes a thumb over his slit, gasping when the shock of the touch sends a tremulous shudder through his body.  Another deep inhale of Makoto’s scent goes straight to his throbbing cock, and it’s all Haruka can do to keep himself together as he tightens his hand around himself and fucks into it.  A sharp moan rips its way out of his throat, slicing through the silent house and causing a hot blush to flare up across his cheeks.

“Makoto,” he breathes, the name barely more than a sigh as he squeezes harder, gasping into the humid confines of the shirt as he buries his head in deeper.

_Makoto…_

Makoto’s wide fingers brushing his shoulder as he fixes the shirt on Haru.  His touch lingering until he’s hovering over him, the breadth of his back filling Haruka’s vision, the scent of his sweat filling his head as he leans down to suck on the tender skin of Haruka’s throat, mouth hot and wet, his teeth grazing the skin gently as his huge hands comb through Haruka’s hair, his strong arms hugging Haruka to his chest as he brings his hips down in a sinuous roll –

Haruka gives a pained gasp as he comes, and he crushes his nose into the shirt, biting his lip as he finishes himself off.

He lies there awhile, refusing to move even as he begins to feel cold and sticky.  He closes his eyes, rests his head once more against the soft fabric before getting up. 

He hopes the water hasn’t cooled down so much he has to begin his bath all over again.


End file.
